Leo: Stage Fright

by Jahnna N. Malcolm

  "As a matter of fact," Page went on, "I felt so encouraged by the class response that I'm definitely going to audition for Evita"

  "Great." Lydia tapped her foot nervously, wishing the phone call would end.

  "I'm aiming for something in the chorus," Page continued, seemingly unaware of Lydia's urgency. "Nothing big. I've already got my time booked in for Saturday."

  "You what?" Lydia zeroed in on the conversation for the first time.

  "I said I went ahead and scheduled my audition," Page told her.

  "Wow, that was fast."

  "Oh, I was at the theatre after school, copying scripts," Page explained, "when the list was posted. Truth is, I was the first person to sign up – I hope everyone else won't jump to the conclusion that I'm way too pushy. I mean—"

  "Don't be so hard on yourself," Lydia said, cutting her off. "You're talented and smart, and dedicated and pretty, and—"

  "Pretty?" Page repeated. "Hardly that."

  "You could be," Lydia told her. "If you let yourself be. You should try another look for the audition."

  "You mean plastic surgery?" Page joked.

  "I'm serious," Lydia said. "I've only seen you wear your hair pulled into a ponytail. Why not try it down? And while you're at it, try a little mascara and blusher. It'll help soften your features."

  "Thanks, I will," Page said. There was a moment of silence, before she said, "I'm sorry to be calling at the wrong time. You're obviously in some sort of hurry."

  Cradling the portable, Lydia headed into the bathroom to do a quick touch-up to her own make-up. "Actually, I am meeting someone in a few minutes."

  "Eric. Right? A hot date with Eric?"

  "How did you know?"

  "Oh, come on! You can't fool a fellow Leo," Page chuckled. "Besides, you'd have to be blind not to notice the way he looks at you."

  "I only hope you're right," Lydia said, checking her appearance in the mirror. "Page, I'm sorry to do this, but I've got to run. I was supposed to meet him in the park five minutes ago. Cross your fingers. If anything momentous happens, I'll let you know."

  "Promise?" Page said.

  "Promise. Wish me luck!"

  "Good luck, Lydia."

  Lydia dashed to return the portable phone to her mother's room, then raced back to the kitchen. "I'm off," she called to Jake, who was finishing his dinner.

  "I might as well get my own apartment," he grumbled. "I'm alone most of the time as it is."

  Lydia felt a pang of guilt and for half a second contemplated staying. No. She shook her head. This is too important. I'll come back early and we'll spend some time talking or watching TV.

  She headed off down the street for the park, walking just slowly enough not to avoid breaking into a sweat. She couldn't get Jake's disappointed look out of her head. After Evita is over, I'm going to spend more time with Jake. I have the theatre, but what does he have besides a few undependable friends, and video games? He certainly didn't have a family. That blew up a year ago.

  Lydia entered the park just as the sky was darkening. She took the path running alongside the road that led to the footbridge, where she assumed Eric would be waiting. Please, be there!

  As she got closer and closer to the bridge, Lydia noticed that the park seemed almost deserted, which was a bit strange. Usually in the early evening, even after dark, a few runners, bikers, roller-bladers, or dog-walkers could be seen moving along one of the well-lit paths. But not tonight.

  At last. Lydia spied the footbridge.

  Squinting her eyes to see if anyone was waiting there, Lydia didn't notice a slow-moving car approaching from behind. The car had its headlights off. Its tyres barely made a sound on the road.

  Without warning, the engine roared, and the car shot forward – directly at her!

  Lydia heard the screeching tyres and turned. "Wait! Stop!" she held up her hands in horror.

  The car kept coming. Lydia jumped off the path and bolted into the park. Surely she'd be safe now. She looked over her shoulder.

  "Oh, my God!" The car had jumped the kerb, and was speeding towards her.

  Lydia ran for all she was worth directly towards the lake. Still the engine revved behind her.

  The water was dark and murky but it was her only chance. "Help!" she screamed as her feet left the ground and she dived in head first.

  Lydia didn't even notice the cold. Struggling against her tangle of clothes, she kicked and forced her way further under the surface, praying that the car wouldn't crash in on top of her.

  Can't breathe. Lungs going to explode. Lydia stayed under water until she felt she was going to pass out, then she twisted her body upwards, breaking the surface far from shore.

  "Air!" she gasped. "Oh, God. Air."

  Through her blurry vision, Lydia saw the cream-coloured car nearly hit a tree, then swerve to avoid the lake and speed off back towards the road.

  Maybe the driver thought she had drowned. Lydia suddenly realized she was shaking, partly from the frigid water but mostly from fear. "Please. Don't come back. Please."

  Sobbing, choking, and frightened out of her wits, she somehow managed to swim back to shore and crawl out of the water. She collapsed in the mud, hardly believing what had just happened. Her lungs burned and her body ached – but she was alive.

  Lydia raised her head and moaned in the direction of the fleeing car. "You could've killed me!"

  The enormity of what had just happened suddenly struck. It was no accident. Someone had deliberately tried to run her down. Lydia jumped to her feet. Gotta go home. Gotta hide.

  She stumbled through the trees, whimpering at every snap of a twig or rustle of a leaf. Now she was shivering so hard her teeth were chattering. She darted from dark shadow to dark shadow, trying to focus on something besides the cold.

  Who would do this to me? First the trap door, then the doll and – and now this! Why?

  Where was Eric? Hoping to find him, she worked her way back to the path and over to the footbridge. But the bridge was deserted. Had he come and gone? Was he still coming? Had he seen what just happened?

  A sickening feeling crept up from her very toes. Maybe Eric had never intended to meet her. This whole thing was a trap!

  Maybe it was him behind the wheel of that car.

  "No!" she moaned into the vacant darkness.

  But the strange invitation. He'd sent it, hadn't he? And the phone message?

  In the distance Lydia heard a car slow and turn round, and her pulse quickened.

  Run home! She fled, as fast as her wet, aching legs could carry her.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The moon is going to make you quite moody today, if you allow it! Keep in mind that it moves on swiftly, and don't overdo the emotions without practicing an apology.

  At school the next morning, Lydia was a total wreck. She wore sunglasses because the night before, after running home from the park, she'd cried for hours.

  Although she knew better, she couldn't bring herself to tell her mother or Jake what had happened. Lydia would have had to admit that she'd lied about the rehearsal, and besides, what proof did she have that a car had tried to run her down?

  So, locked in her room, unable to quiet her mind, Lydia had stayed up most of the night. It had given her a chance to catch up on her homework, which was the excuse she gave her mother at breakfast for looking so tired. But mostly, staying up had given her time to worry.

  "Thank God it's Friday," Lydia muttered as she climbed the front steps to school. Only eight more hours and she could run home to the safety of her room.

  Keeping her sunglasses on tight, Lydia ducked her head low and moved straight to her locker, praying no one would notice her.

  The morning classes seemed endless but at least Lydia managed to disappear into the group of students who were at school in body if not in mind. Luckily, on Fridays – and especially as the spring wore on, the teachers understood that the end of the week
was not the time to expect good work or start new projects.

  By lunch, it appeared Lydia might escape the day as a nobody – until Eric spotted her sitting by herself under a tree on the school grounds.

  My God. He's coming this way! Lydia looked around for help. Didn't he nearly kill her last night?

  "Hey, where have you been hiding yourself?" Eric asked with a big friendly grin.

  "Nowhere." Lydia was afraid to look him in the eyes. She stared hard at the bottle of soda water and pot of yogurt in front of her.

  "You're avoiding me, right?"

  "Why would I do that?" she asked, still not looking up.

  "Why? Because of the stupid message I left for you yesterday," he said. "Mind if I join you in the shade?"

  Lydia froze as Eric flopped casually on the grass next to her.

  They sat in silence for a few increasingly torturous moments. Finally Eric asked, "Lydia, are you angry about something?"

  She plucked a blade of grass and shredded it into tiny green bits. "Should I be?"

  "No," he said firmly. "At least I don't think so. Listen, the reason I called yesterday was to... was to ask you out after the audition on Saturday. I guess I was thrown a little when you didn't answer the phone, so I started to leave a message. Then I realized that maybe your mom might get to it first, so I stopped short, and ended up sounding pretty moronic. Right?"

  He could be so charming. It was hard to resist.

  "You were going to ask me out on a date?" Lydia allowed herself to look up into his warm brown eyes.

  "Something like that," he said, moving a strand of her hair back into place. "I thought we could go somewhere for dinner, maybe take in a movie. It's up to you. I really like talking to you. Listen, Lydia, if you already have other plans—"

  "Did you send me something unsigned in the mail?" Lydia said, cutting him off.

  "Me? No."

  "Were we supposed to meet at the park last night?"

  He was genuinely confused. "Lydia, what's this about?"

  He's innocent. Nobody's that good an actor. She waved a hand in the air. "I'm sorry. Forget that question. I think I've got some kind of spring fever."

  "Oh, speaking of forgetting," Eric snapped his fingers, "I almost forgot. I left something for you in the car."

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "A biography of Eva Peron," he said, standing up. "You know, the real-life model for Evita. I took it out of the library and polished it off this morning before breakfast. I thought you might want to read it before your audition."

  "Great." Lydia smiled at Eric. How could I ever have doubted him?

  "You want to wait here or walk with me?" He held out his hand, helping her to her feet.

  Lydia tossed her yogurt pot in the trash and together they headed towards the student parking lot. As they walked, Eric told her about what he had read. "Eva Peron was extremely poor in her native Argentina. But by sheer talent and ambition she became a famous actress and then married a powerful politician named Juan Peron. He was elected president of Argentina in the Fifties, but a lot of people thought it was Eva who really ran the country. It's incredible. The people loved her so much that they nicknamed her "Evita" and, long after her death, many Argentines continue to worship her memory."

  Lydia smiled at Eric with pure delight. Most of the boys she had ever dated hardly read the newspaper. Yet here was Eric, so excited about this book. "I can't wait to read it," she said. "She sounds like a fascinating woman."

  "Reading it will help prepare you for the part," he said, as they moved down a row of parked cars.

  "You mean, if I'm cast," Lydia said.

  "Who else would they give the part to?" he asked with a shrug.

  She was about to thank him for his confidence when he said, "Well, there's the car."

  Lydia froze in her tracks. Eric's car, a cream-coloured El Dorado, looked just like the car that had tried to run her down in the park.

  "Something wrong?" he asked, noticing the sudden change in her attitude

  "That – that car." She was barely able to say the words.

  "Pretty fancy, huh?" he joked. "You should see the interior. Leather seats, electric windows, locks, everything. There's even a voice that tells you when you're low on gas or if your door isn't closed properly. We've still got a few minutes before the end of lunch period – want to go for a spin?"

  "No." Lydia's voice was dull and lifeless.

  "Suit yourself. I'll get that book."

  "Eric." She forced her voice to be strong. "I don't want the book. And I don't want to see you."

  "Oh?" He cocked his head in confusion. "Listen, if tomorrow night's no good, maybe we can try for Sunday, or sometime next—"

  "Not tomorrow." She turned and ran back towards the school. "Not ever!"

  Lydia's next class was advanced acting and it took all the courage she could muster to walk into the room and sit calmly in her seat.

  Ms McGuire was in a particularly foul mood and spent the first ten minutes of the class haranguing the group about their chronic lack of preparation. Then, instead of doing the scheduled scenework, she abruptly changed her mind.

  "We're going to work on improvisation for the rest of the hour," Ms McGuire announced. "Lydia and Keenan – you two will start. Here's the set-up. You're a young married couple who are not getting along."

  "That won't take much acting," Robin cracked to A.J. Unfortunately the rest of the class heard and joined in their sniggering.

  "Come on, you two," Ms McGuire clapped her hands together. "Front and centre."

  "Do I have to?" Lydia refused to budge. "Can't someone else try?"

  "You mean you're not prepared?" Ms McGuire asked sternly.

  "Please, Ms McGuire. I'm just not in the mood." Lydia knew her teacher would never buy that excuse, but she really didn't want to get up in front of the class. Not with him. Not Keenan.

  "Ms McGuire?" Page had raised her hand. "I'd be happy to take Lydia's place if she's not feeling well. If it'll help."

  "Thank you for volunteering, Page," Ms McGuire said. "But it's Lydia's turn."

  Lydia twisted in her seat to look at Page, who shrugged as if to say, "Sorry, but I tried."

  Ms McGuire glared at Lydia. "I'm waiting."

  Lydia had no choice. She dragged herself to the front of the room.

  "Why don't you and Keenan take a moment and get organized?" Ms McGuire told them.

  As Lydia and Keenan turned their back to the group, Keenan hissed, "What's your problem, Lydia? Is the queen having a bad day?"

  "Put a cork in it, Keenan," she said quietly. "I'm not in the mood."

  "Just because Jill is going to blow you out of the water at those auditions tomorrow doesn't mean you have to take it out on everyone."

  "Jill?" Lydia scoffed, rolling her eyes. "That sophomore twit? Please."

  "Go ahead, laugh," Keenan warned. "Your days are numbered."

  Lydia felt ill. How could she have ever found Keenan attractive? And how would she ever get through this class?

  Meanwhile another teacher had stepped into the room and handed Ms McGuire a note. She studied the message, then said, "Well, Lydia, this must be your lucky day. You're wanted in the office."

  "The office?" Lydia said. "What for?"

  "All I know is you're to call home at once," the teacher replied.

  "Good riddance," Keenan muttered as she left the room.

  Her anger seething inside her, Lydia stomped down to the school office and dialed home.

  Her brother answered.

  "Jake? What are you doing home?"

  "Is that you, Lydia?"

  "I forgot my stuff for gym," he stammered. "I was excused to come home, but when I got here..."

  Her brother's voice cracked and he couldn't go on.

  "Jake!" Lydia shouted. "Tell me. What is it!"

  "Lydia, we've been robbed."

  "Robbed?" She couldn't
believe it.

  "You should see it," he said. It sounded like he was crying. "It's terrible, the place is a mess. I can't reach Mom – or Dad."

  "Did you call the police?"

  "No, I called you first."

  "Well, call the police," Lydia said, trying to be calm. "Keep them there until I arrive. I'm leaving right away."

  Lydia ran all the way home. When she arrived, Jake was sitting outside on the front porch.

  "It's too creepy to go in there," he told her as she bent over to catch her breath. "There are cops crawling all over the house."

  "Come on, Jake." Lydia helped her brother to his feet and kept her arm around him. "No one's going to hurt us with the police here."

  Lydia opened the front door and surveyed the damage. Cushions knocked off the couch. Video tapes and CDs strewn on the floor. "That's strange."

  Jake nodded. "It's terrible."

  "No, I mean the TV and video are still here. And our stereo. Those are new speakers, too. So what did they take?"

  Jake, who's eyes were red-rimmed, rubbed his nose on the back of his sleeve. "They must have taken something, 'cause the whole house is wrecked."

  He led her to his bedroom, passing a police officer who was jotting down notes. Another officer was dusting for fingerprints. The intruder had obviously gone through Jake's room because it was even messier than usual. All of his clothes had been dumped in a big heap on the floor.

  "Anything missing?" Lydia asked.

  "Not that I know of," he said quietly. "But I'll check after the cops leave. They must be finishing in your room. You may not want to go in there."

  "Why?" she asked, fearfully.

  One glance into Lydia's room gave her the answer. Her desk had been overturned, its contents spilled. Her bookshelves had been knocked over. Even the sheets had been ripped off the bed.